


On My Word

by Capzi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Canon Compliant, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Top Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 14:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11404116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capzi/pseuds/Capzi
Summary: “Look, here’s the deal: I love fucking you, okay? Capital L-O-V-E love it, on my list of daily activities it ranks somewhere above fuckingwithyou and Dean, and horsing around with my dad’s secret herd of unicorns that survived the flood. But I cannot in my good conscience or, hell, personal pride, allow you to use me like your own hardcore sex machine every time we bang."





	On My Word

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my own personal head-canon that Sam likes it rough in bed...
> 
>  
> 
> ...and that may or may not be covering up some deeper issues.

           

* * *

 

            “You played the part of absolute fucking dumbass spectacularly well today.”

            Sam ignored this, and focused instead on ripping off his crisp white dress shirt as fast as humanly possible. Okay, crisp white where it wasn’t caked with dried blood. Damnit. Dress shirts were so hard to find in his size.

            “Yeah, well, I’m good at that. Wendigo slayer, fake FBI agent, absolute fucking dumbass.” Adrenaline fumbled his fingers, made buttons easier to tear apart than undo one by one. He shrugged off the fabric and looked at Gabriel with expectation only to be met with a sour face and a huffy set of crossed arms.

            “I’m serious, Sam. You and your equally idiotic brother are riding the one-way track to Shitsville and _begging_ the driver to stomp the gas. Is there any room left for self-preservation with all that disgusting sense of duty and sacrifice and blahhh blah blah blah?”

            Gabriel nodded at the blood clotted on Sam’s right bicep, which Sam also chose to ignore, along with the archangel using his real name instead of some Chuckawful nickname, in order to dish up an impressive bitchface.

            “Are you my therapist or my fuck buddy? C’mon Gabriel, that isn’t how this works. I pray, you answer the call, we do our thing, and everyone goes home happy. Today was a nightmare; can we just get on with it?”

            Gabriel frowned, but he shoved Sam down to the bed, with maybe even more force than usual. Sam closed his eyes, tense with arousal, and waited for the inevitable. Waited for the rest of his clothes to vanish. Waited for the first, breath-taking slide of cock inside him. Waited to have his face held down into the mattress, shuddering and jolting with each brutal thrust.

            (He’s become kind of a lazy lay since all this started up. But it’s nice having someone else do all the work, someone who doesn’t let him hold anything back. Someone who can take any bite, grip, push, any _scream_ Sam can dish out.)

            Instead of a filthy collision of their bodies, Sam felt the mattress dip down and Gabriel’s warm hand rest on his (still fully clothed) thigh. He wrenched his eyes open with building annoyance.

            “Gabe. I thought we were having sex here, _what_ is the problem?”

            “You are,” Gabriel answered simply. He rubbed his thumb over Sam’s thigh, gently, granting an infuriatingly small amount of contact. “Sammoose, what’s the longest it’s ever taken for you to get off.”

            “Hell if I know, definitely not longer than it’s taking you to get to the point of this stupid interruption.” Sam scrunched down the bed, draping his free leg to the other side of Gabriel and trying to draw him closer.

            Gabriel just grabbed both thighs in his iron grip, effectively stopping Sam moving at all. Sam felt his heart double beat his chest at the man-handling. He was more than ready for it.

            But Gabriel kept fucking _talking._

            “Look, here’s the deal: I love fucking you, okay? Capital L-O-V-E love it, on my list of daily activities it ranks somewhere above fucking _with_ you and Dean, and horsing around with my dad’s secret herd of unicorns that survived the flood. Don’t _even_ think to ask about that right now” – Sam had opened his mouth, temporarily distracted from his goal – “But I cannot in my good conscience or, hell, personal pride, allow you to use me like your own hardcore sex machine every time we bang. It’s not healthy. You’re just letting sex be another form of aggression, not a means of _real_ pleasure, _actual_ satisfaction.”

            Sam flinched backwards. Instantly retorts flooded his mouth, insisting that he did so draw pleasure from sex, and yes, it was too healthy for him to work out his tension (from his thankless, non-paying job killing monsters) by having (punishingly rough) sex (with an archangel who spent a year murdering his brother to prove a point).

            He shut his mouth once again.

            Gabriel smirked, seeming to read all his inner turmoil as clearly as always.

            “Fine,” Sam snapped. “Glad you got your Freud moment out of your system. Are you still going to fuck me though, or do I need to plan on some time with my hand tonight?”

            “No, I’m not going to fuck you, Sam Bernardino.” Gabriel finally sounded like himself, obnoxiously cheerful and teasing, rubbing Sam’s legs with little more force. “I think you’ve had enough of that. I think you’re exhausted from being on the road all week, and frustrated you let yourself get hurt, and you need to chill the fuck out on fucking. So I’m not going to fuck you. But I will…”

            Gabriel trailed off, a tantalizing display of self-consciousness for him. He looked away from Sam and cleared his throat.

            “Make love to you, I guess you could call it. I’m flexible like that. But I am not going to hear any more bitching, or I will fly off and leave you with your hand after all, understand?”

            “I got it.” Sam was interested. And amused. It was definitely worth shutting up just to see if Gabriel would say anything else as sappy as ‘make love’. He wouldn’t have pegged the guy who once broke three motel bed frames in the course of a weekend as much of a romantic.

            “Good. Now stop talking so we can make out.”

            Just in time Sam remembered Gabriel’s threat of leaving because the asshole could not possibly be serious. _Making out?_ Like teenagers? Like virgin teenagers from the 1950’s?

            But he guessed it was better than nothing.

            Gabriel slid up the mattress so he and Sam were at eye level and reached for Sam’s cheek. For a few long moments, he was still, just watching, and it was unnerving to have him not say anything, unnerving to keep eye contact and be so close while barely touching. Finally Sam couldn’t bear the quiet anymore and closed the distance between them.

            They had never kissed before. Not a real kiss, something more careful and deliberate than panting into each other’s mouths or shoving their tongues down one another’s throats while their bodies worked in tandem toward completion. Sam was hesitant, at first. It didn’t feel quite right to be moving so slowly with Gabriel, to feel only the softness of their lips and brush of their noses and hair.

            But Gabriel was pressing back, still with his hold on Sam’s cheek to slowly turn him for a better angle. Sam’s eyes closed automatically and he found himself holding the back of Gabriel’s neck, moving his fingers through his feathery hair. He tried not to pull.

            After what seemed like a long, long time, Sam inhaled sharply to catch his breath and Gabriel slipped his tongue into his mouth. It was almost surprising, in the quiet, and a jolt hit Sam’s stomach as the heat between them grew. But still slowly. Gabriel licked the roof of Sam’s mouth and moved his free hand to caress the other side of his face. Their feet, still in their boots, tangled up now and their chests were flush against one another so that Sam’s increasingly urgent breaths brought their full bodies in contact.

            Making out was a _lot_ better than nothing.

            Just as Sam felt himself starting to let go, to truly lose himself in the singular activity of kissing someone, Gabriel upped the ante again. He pulled away entirely and knelt at the edge of the bed, actually unlacing and easing off both of Sam’s boots and it wasn’t sexy at all, it _wasn’t,_ but the intimacy of letting another person touch him –not in violence, not in passion – affected him somehow. Gabriel took his socks too, stopping to press the smallest kiss to his bare ankle, and it made Sam want to smile.

            Gabriel’s own boots went a lot quicker, and then he was back up with Sam, sliding off his jacket, pulling free the shirt underneath, bare-chested to settle himself on top of Sam’s bare chest.

            Without a word - and honestly, Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Gabriel stay silent more than one minute - the kissing continued. This time, Gabriel started to move and Sam let him cradle the back of his head, opened his legs so that Gabriel fell neatly in between them. Their height difference meant they couldn’t grind against one another and kiss at the same time, but that didn’t matter with Gabriel nosing at his neck and shoulder now. He brushed his lips to Sam’s throat and Sam gasped in response. Like a teenager. Like a virgin teenager from the 1950’s.

            Sam’s erection had swelled up properly now, and he could feel Gabriel’s too and wanted to do something about them. He bucked up sharply, just once, only to have Gabriel press down with the weight of his true form, pinning him to the mattress.

            “No,” he murmured near Sam’s ear. “This is about feeling, not finishing. Relax, Sammy. I can feel your heartbeat; I know you had it.”

            “What are you saying? That I don’t get to come?” Sam was suddenly restless again, his strength useless to move the archangel sucking wetly at his collarbone.

            “By all means, come whenever you want to. Just don’t expect me to force an orgasm out of you or let you rut yourself against me like a dog.”

            Embarrassment flushed Sam’s cheeks, but thankfully Gabriel was busy slipping his arms under Sam’s back to knead the muscle there and bring him closer.

            “Sex is a conversation. If all you’re doing is lying there and letting me ram my dick into you, you’re not talking to me so much as agreeing with me without even listening to what I have to say.”

            With one hand, Gabriel palmed Sam’s ass through his heavy dress pants. With his other, he drew feather-light, fingertip designs over Sam’s chest. Finally he stopped speaking in order to lave his tongue flat over Sam’s nipple, leaving his pebbled, saliva-slick skin shivering. Without pausing, he shot up a bantering look and Sam understood the message immediately.

            “I want you to take off our pants so I can feel you,” he said quietly. He wound his hands through Gabriel’s hair again. Somehow, Gabriel had healed his bicep without his noticing; the blood and bruising were gone.

            “I want your mouth on my neck when you slide your cock in me.”

            Gabriel was loosening Sam’s belt, nipping all the while at his stomach muscles. The sting of his teeth was playful and erotic both.

            “I want you to stay here and sleep with me after.”

            Sam hadn’t been sure he was really going to say it until it was too late. He sucked in a hard breath, as much from his boldness as the nibble Gabriel gave to his inner thigh at the same time. Gabriel’s face was hidden, and he was quiet, but Sam felt his fingers squeeze lightly at his hips.

            There was nothing in between them now when Gabriel laid back down. Sam staved off his reckless need to surge up into the heat, to grab at all the naked skin he could. But he couldn’t resist opening his legs up wider, or lifting one to wrap around Gabriel’s back.

            Apparently his hint was subtle enough for the archangel to allow it.

            Gabriel held Sam against him, scratching his nails gently down his back, and reached down with a thumb to his perineum and fingertip to his hole. Sam was relieved that whatever trick of Grace he always used to lube up his fingers was still in effect when they weren’t, well, fucking.

            Sam adjusted quickly to preparation anymore, and it wasn’t long before Gabriel had to rear back and kneel between Sam’s legs to get enough leverage to push two fingers in. He gripped above Sam’s still bent knee as he worked, a process that bordered on torturous for Sam. He could easily take two fingers. Muscle memory kicked in, reminding his body that it should prepare for something bigger slamming into him soon, and he wanted to be forced wider open.

            But Gabriel continued to finger him leisurely. Sam had to admire his commitment to driving home a message; even through his struggle not to whine for deeper, harder stimulation, he didn’t miss the way those golden eyes flickered up his body with lust.

            And well, wasn’t this supposed to be about more than just him lying down and taking whatever Gabriel gave him?

            Sam didn’t have magical lube powers, so he was forced to spit into his palm before groping –somewhat gracelessly, as he _was_ still lying down, taking Gabriel’s fingers – for Gabriel’s cock. Gabriel startled, then smirked, rolling his hips slightly into Sam’s hand.

           It was a rare occasion that he actually touched Gabriel, outside of lining himself up when he rode, so Sam took his time feeling the veins and ridges of the hot flesh. He rubbed his thumb against the slit just the way he liked on himself and felt Gabriel press his fingers a little deeper in response. Without meaning to, they’d come together so that Sam was practically in his angel’s lap, legs loosely wrapped, hips tilted up to give access to his loosening hole and still stroking Gabriel a little too firmly, quickly.

           The fingers came out of Sam. He waited a moment before leaning up on his elbows, hoping he didn’t look too desperate, to face Gabriel waiting patiently. For several heartbeats they looked at each other, until Sam understood that was the point: Gabriel was waiting for his heart rate to go down, for him to relax into the next part.

            Sam had his own smirk now. Gradually he sank back down and bared the side of his neck in invitation, ghosting his fingertips over the flushed skin. Gabriel grinned, not in a joke or mockingly or like the smug bastard he was, just like someone you’d hope to be having sex with, someone who cared about you.

            Sam couldn’t think about that now, though. All he could focus on was the press of lips to where his shoulder met the line of his throat. He’d never realized he was so _sensitive_ there. Down below, Gabriel guided the head of his cock to Sam’s hole. And then he simply let their bodies do the rest.

            There was no initial thrust to set a ruthless pace for Sam to follow. Gabriel didn’t knock their hipbones together or yank back fistfuls of Sam’s hair. He just kept nuzzling and mouthing at his neck, letting Sam tilt his pelvis up to take him in as it became comfortable. Sam moaned deep in his throat and Gabriel answered with a low rumble against his skin.

            Eventually a slow roll of Sam’s hips locked them together entirely, and by unspoken agreement they paused to kiss again. Gabriel took their hands overhead, fingers interlaced, Sam pushed into the mattress by the entirety of his body. A few more kisses and then he lowered their hands to the sides of Sam’s head, hips pitching backwards.

            Still he didn’t thrust, not like how Sam was used to. Their bodies came together and drew apart almost effortlessly. It was a conversation. Sam angled higher and Gabriel rolled into him. Gabriel scraped teeth up his neck and Sam clenched to bring him deeper. Gabriel liked to watch his face, Sam realized. He never knew that before either.

            Sam tried not to think of coming, but it was impossible. His own cock twitched fluid between their bellies and knowing he would come without being touched there just brought his orgasm even closer.

            Gabriel was still staring at him intently, still holding his hands tight and grinding down like he had all the time in the world. Sam felt the need to say something then.

            “This is…it’s so…” He stumbled, starting to feel light-headed. “Amazing. Feels so good. Don’t stop. Please. Gabriel, please, _please,_ don’t stop, I’m gonna-”

            He broke off, choking on a noise that sounded a lot like a sob as the combined motion of their hips into one another finally brought him over the edge. Sam clutched hard at Gabriel’s hands, tension releasing from his stomach and limbs so abruptly it almost hurt.

            Gabriel stopped moving then, but, drowsy as he felt, Sam continued rocking himself back on the hot cock still inside him.

            Gabriel huffed breathlessly.

_“Sam.”_

            “I want this too,” Sam breathed. “Want you to come, let me make you come.”

            Gabriel returned the motion more forcefully, more like his usual pace. His eyes were closed and when he came, he dropped his forehead to Sam’s, the two of them still panting and gasping for air. Sam closed his eyes too as he felt the familiar warmth fill him from the inside.

            But even the gush of come slipping from his ass with the loss of Gabriel’s cock was softer, gentler. Gabriel never left him a mess unless he begged for it, normally waving away all their sweat and saliva and spunk for Sam to look respectable coming out of diner restrooms or meeting Dean in the mornings. Now though, he pulled a damp cloth out of the air and used it to wipe Sam’s chest and between his legs.

            Sam was quiet, enjoying the endorphins and the feel of the warm fabric...and hoping his third request was somehow forgotten. Gabriel did not hang around after they were finished. That wasn’t the nature of this relationship and honestly Sam wasn’t sure he even _wanted_ him to stay. This time had seemed different, but that was only because Gabriel changed around the rules, forced Sam to slow down and take in the whole experience. It was still just sex, at the end of the day.

            Finally Sam was as clean as he was going to be and Gabriel hovered above him awkwardly. It was Sam’s turn to be patient now. He could wait, for whatever snarky comment or backhanded compliment or even sappy remark was coming.

            Gabriel looked helpless a few seconds longer before throwing himself back down on the bed. He pushed at Sam’s shoulder until he turned to his side and wrapped himself carefully around Sam’s back, flicking his Grace one last time to bring up the blankets around them.

            Sam could have laughed. It was all too much, the kissing, the making _love,_ and now spooning? He didn’t recognize who they were in this moment, he, settling back into the comfortable warmth and tilting his neck up again and Gabriel, sliding his arms around his chest and fitting his nose to the curves of his throat.

            Sam didn’t laugh. Gabriel said nothing. Maybe they’d already said too much.

            Maybe, Sam decided, giving in to comfort and to sleep, they could talk about it in the morning. 

 

 


End file.
